Playing in Paris
by AlchemyRepose
Summary: 2/? of a series of Hetalia One Shots. Playing in Paris, Chapter One, is a France x Reader One Shot. Bullets and Beer, Chapter Two, is a Germany x Reader One Shot. Rated M for sexual content.
1. Playing in Paris

You throw a glance at the blonde-haired man sitting on the white couch across from you. He is deliberately looking away, a glass of wine at his lips, but it isn't tilted enough for the red liquid to pass by his lips. He looks to be in deep thought. His bright blue eyes are wide, with long, feminine eyelashes. His curly blonde hair reaches almost to his shoulders, and a few of the top buttons of his shirt are undone.

"Ah, Monseuir Bonnefoy-" You begin quietly, but he cuts you off with a gentle smile.

"Call me Francis, mon amour." He says, his eyes sparkling with affection. You smile a little, and sit up a bit, puffing your chest out. You casually slip your hand under the collar of your button up shirt, placing your thumb and forefinger on your collarbone and pushing down the shirt a bit. "Of course, Francis." His eyes follow your hand, and he stares at your chest.

You smile, and unbutton a few of the buttons and pull your shirt open a bit. You hear a small sigh, and Francis' eyes flicker upward to meet yours. You place your knees on the low glass coffee table, with your legs spread somewhat apart, so that your short skirt revealed just the inside of your thighs. Francis' eyes had moved down again, to your skirt this time. You slowly push your skirt down with both hands so that he looked back into your eyes, and then you rise onto your knees, undoing another button of your shirt and inviting him to do the rest. He does so, at first looking at your chest, and then into your eyes with his bright blue ones. After he is finished, you slip the shirt off your bare shoulders, wearing only a black lacy bra underneath. Francis' hand hovers over your hip, but you raise one finger, as if scolding him.

"Ah, ah. You can only look."

"You are a masterpiece, madamoiselle."

"They say you cannot touch the ones on display in museums." You shy backwards a bit, keeping eye contact. You spread your legs apart a little more, put pushing your pencil skirt down. He keeps his eyes on your hands, and looks vaguely frustrated. "I want to see more, more." "You will, mon amour." He has a hungry look in his eyes, which you found immensely satisfying.

You shrug your shoulders, pushing your breasts together, placing your fingertips at your sternum. His eyes leave your skirt and move up to your chest. You stare at the Frenchman, admiring him.

"Sei molto bello, monseiur." He glances into your eyes for a slight moment.

"You know me well, mon amour." You smile and slide the strap of your bra down your arm slowly. He watches intently as it gets lower and lower. His breathing has increased notably.

"Stai bene? Are you alright, Francis?"

"I am in your presence, madamoiselle." You lean forward, letting your bra strap fall even farther down. You lovingly caress the side of his face, smiling. Then you retreat, and press your knees together.

"You want to see more?" The lust in his eyes flares as you speak. You laugh gently. "I worry for your health, Francis."

"Making love is a very healthy activity, they say."

"That is true, si." You reach behind your back and unhook your bra. However, as you pull it away, you cover your breasts, and discard the garment. Francis shifts in his seat, staring at your arm covering your chest. You move your other hand down to your skirt and slowly pull it down along with your undergarments, rising up onto your knees to do so, and covering yourself with your hand.

You sit back and place both feet on the couch on either side of his legs. You slide forward slightly, moving your feet to the ground as Francis pulls your skirt off of your legs. He is audibly panting now, and as you look at him his adam's apple bobs in his anxiousness. He stares downward at your hand between your legs.

"What is it that you wanted to do to me, Francis?" He looks into your eyes, full of lust and affection.

"Ooh, madamoiselle, there are many things I would like to do, but I am not to touch the masterpieces." You laugh lightly and move both arms to your sides. You move forward, placing your knees on the couch so that you are nearly sitting on his lap.

"Ora si può toccare."

* * *

Mon Amour- My love

Sei molto bello- You are very handsome

Stai bene- Are you alright

-Ora si può toccare- Now you can touch


	2. Bullets and Beer

"I messed up." You think bitterly. You were sitting on a bed in the infirmary, holding your head in your hand with your knees drawn up to your chest.

Three months ago you went into the German army disguised as a man to fight for your country. However, after a particularly bloody battle, your platoon was nearly annihilated, and was left without a doctor. Your commanding officer, Ludwig Beilschmidt, was the only one with even an ounce of medical knowledge. He was currently going around the infirmary, tending to the other soldiers. You had been shot in the chest during the battle. Although it caused you a great amount of pain, it had not even hit your sternum due to your breasts, even though they were bound.

As Beilschmidt neared, you grew increasingly nervous. When he finally reached you, you attempted to relax.

"Ah, Commander, it is just a light wound. I can take care of it myself." You tell him, ignoring the stabs of pain.

"I saw you get hit. It looked very bad. Now, lower your hand." You hadn't even realized that you'd had your hand over your wound. You lower your hand obediently, but raise it again to stop his hand.

"Commander, I have something to confess." You say quietly.

"It can wait. Let me tend to your wound." The blonde German was growing impatient, with others to tend to. You pull open your uniform a bit, revealing part of your bare chest. He recoils slightly, his expression unreadable.

"You're right." He says finally. "It is just a minor wound." He goes to move on to the other soldiers, but pauses for a moment. "Make sure you tend to it." Beilschmidt said shortly, before continuing. You notice as he waks away that the tips of his ears are slightly red.

Later, you are awoken from an uneasy, pain-ridden sleep by another soldier, saying that Commander Beilschmidt is summoning you. You step out of the infirmary and shiver, despite your uniform. You had thought the infirmary was cold, but out here it was much colder, particularly now that night had fallen.

You stepped into Beilschmidt's tent, which was surprisingly warm. Beilschmidt himself is sitting at a makeshift desk, writing, but he looks up when you enter.

"Ah, soldier. What was your name?"

"Gilb-" You stop, about to have used your fake name.

"[Name.]"

"And that is your real name?"

"Yes, sir." You bow your head shamefully, clasping your hands together. Beilschmidt is silent for a long moment, until you finally dare to raise your head. He is staring at you thoughtfully.

"How is your wound?"

"It is...Very painful, sir."

"Lie down over there. I'll tend to it." He reaches under the desk, pulling out a small medical kit. You lie on the bed he had pointed out, staring at the roof of the tent, biting your lip. Beilschmidt comes over and stands above you, preparing. You stare at his blue eyes, marveling at how calm he looks. His eyes look like still water.

He undoes your uniform partially, and you're surprised at how clumsy his hands are, and how much they shake.

"You may want to...bite the pillow. If the other soldiers hear you...crying out..." You nod silently and pull the pillow out from under your head, and cover your face with it. Although you try to keep calm, you begin to breathe faster. You inhale his musky scent, and are nearly suffocated by the pillow. You feel Beilschmidt's fingertips on your sternum as he prepares to pull out the bullet.

He does it sooner than you expected, however, and a short cry escapes your lips before you bit the pillow. You do not remove it from your face until Beilschmidt has finished bandaging your chest, and you look up at your commander to see his face bright red. Beads of sweat had appeared on his brow, and you smile slightly at his nervous expression. He sits in a chair next to the bed, sighing and seeming relieved.

"Commander Beilschmidt-" He raises his hand to stop you.

"Ah- call me Ludwig." You stare at him for a short moment, then nod.

"Thank you, Ludwig. But..." You stare at the covers of the bed and clench your fists. "Can I no longer fight for Germany?" Ludwig leaned back in the chair and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I see no reason to report you to the officials." You snap up your head to look at him.

"Really? Thank you, sir!" He shrugged.

"No need to thank me."

"There must be something." He shook his head, then stopped abruptly.

"What are you implying?" You blink at him.

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Nevermind. It's not my beer, anyway."

"What is?"

"If a woman fights for Germany or not." He gets to his feet and goes to his desk again. You move the covers aside to stand.

"Where are you going?" Ludwig throws a glance in your direction.

"I was going to go back to the infirmary, sir."

"Stay here and rest." He brings out a large flask and sits back down as you lie back down in bed. He opens the flask, takes a long draught, and hands it to you. You take a draught yourself, and smile happily as your suspicions were confirmed.

"Mmm. It's been a long time since I've had beer." You hand the flask back to Ludwig. He has a small, satisfied smile on his face. After about half an hour of idle chatter and passing the flask back and forth, the flask is emptied. Your face feels warm with a light blush, and the drink makes you feel slightly giddy.

"Ludwig, I would really like to thank you. You have been so kind to me." You say gently. Ludwig says nothing, but his blue eyes seem slightly concerned, but curious.

"Really, you don't have to."

"But I want to. Is it okay?" You place your hand on his knee lightly. He looks surprised, and blushes slightly and glances away.

"I am not sure if I am getting your implication correctly..."

"I think you are." You give him a small smile. He glances back at you.

"Er..."

"Is it okay?" You ask again softly, moving onto your knees in front of him. He thinks for a moment, then gives a short nod and places his gloved hand on yours. You smile gently, placing your hands on his broad shoulders.

"You are quite handsome, sir. I have noticed for a long time."

"Please do not think you have to do this."

"I do not think of it as if I am thanking you. This is my chance...To show my affections for you." You blush and bite the inside of your cheek. The German blushed and glanced away.

"Is that true?"

"Of course. This isn't the only way I could 'thank' you. But this is what I wanted to do..." You run your hands down his chest and stop for a moment. "You want me to do this, don't you?" He looks into your eyes. His look the same, like still water- but as you look closer, you see faint emotions and more than a hint of affection.

You smile as he does not answer, and kiss him on the lips. At first he freezes, and then he begins to kiss you back, turning his head to the side slightly and wrapping his muscular arms around you. You slide your hands down his broad chest and begin to undo his uniform. You feel him sliding off his gloves behind your back, and you unbuckle the belt at his waist. Ludwig leans forward into you, allowing you to slide his uniform jacket onto the back of the chair. You move so that you are sitting on his lap, pressing your chest against his. A sharp pain lances through your chest, and you flinch.

"Are you alright?" Ludwig says quickly, noticing immediately.

"Yes." You nod, and smile, and bring your hand up to your chest. "It just hurt a bit. Perhaps, instead..." You glance downward, and then slide off of his lap. He stares down at you as you kneel on the ground, obviously confused.

"Stand up, Ludwig." You say. He stands, and does not seem to realize what you are doing until you reach for your belt.

"Oh-" He stops shortly, the moment of brief panic passing. You glance up, and he nods a little. You smile, and pull down his pants.

You grab his cock with one hand and place your lips on the tip, glancing up at Ludwig. You smile, and begin to lick the head. Slowly at first, moving down the shaft and suckling at it briefly. Then you place the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking gently. You slither your tongue underneath his penis, beginning to suck harder. One hand is on the floor, while the other is just above Ludwig's cock, under his navel. You can hear his groans and sighs of pleasure as you suck harder, smiling internally. You slide your lips off his cock, licking the tip again.

Then you begin to pump the shaft with your hand, slowly at first, then faster. As Ludwig becomes harder, you wrap your lips around the shaft again and suck as hard as you can. He groans and exhales sharply, and you feel his hand on your shoulder. He comes hard and you pull away, his seed dripping from your lips. You spit it onto the dirt floor of the tent and lick the rest of the cum from his cock. You slowly get to your feet, running your hands up his chest. You press your hips gently against his hard cock and grind slowly. You place your hands on his shoulers, staring into his blue eyes. The waters are no longer still, but fluxuating with passion and lust.

"[Name]..." He murmuers passionately.

"Shh..." You smile. "You are strong. Let's do something more interesting, Ludwig." You walk away from him, taking off your uniform. "Lie back on the bed." You take a drink from the glass of water on the desk.

"Unless you have something you want to do."

"I do." You return to him and follow his gentle orders. You strip down naked as he pulls off his black tanktop, and lie back on the bed. You allow the muscular German to get on top of you.

Although his voice was gentle, he began to kiss your face and neck with an almost savage ferocity. He moves down quickly, but paid special attention to your breasts, kissing and suckling on them and breathing his hot breath over them. He was careful of your wound, however, and was more gentle there. He made up for it, however, after he reached past your navel. It were as if you were a juicy fruit he were eating ravenously; Ludwig's fiery intent showed no sign of slowing. He used his tongue, as if to navigate, and sucked and bit as if you were the sweetest thing he'd tasted. He moved his hand in, and began by inserting two of his fingers and moving them up to your clitoris.

Your back arches slightly, and pain lanced through your chest.

"Ludwig-" You gasp, in pain. He paid no mind, assuming it was in euphoria, and moved in deeper. The pain in your chest increased intensely. You grip his other hand, shuddering and gasping.

"Ludwig, stop, please," You beg. He finally stops, and looks into your face with great concern. He creeps up next to you, cradling your face as you gasp for breath.

"I'm sorry." He murmurs softly.

"It's fine." You sit up, sweat drenching your face and hair. You bring your hand up to your chest, the pain still lingering.

"It's not." He carefully moves your hand aside and looks at your wound.

"Ludwig, it's fine. It's not bleeding. I just need to rest." You run your hand through his hair, which was messy and drenched with sweat. He grabs the blanket and covers you with it, cuddling up next to you. You turn on your side to face him, and fiddle with the iron cross around his neck. His eyes are closed, and you believe him to be asleep.

"Ich liebe dich." You say quietly. Ludwig brings his arms up, wraps them around your shoulders, and kisses the top of your head.

"Ich liebe dich, auch."

* * *

When Ludwig says "It's not my beer," it's a way Germans say "It's not my problem."

Ich liebe dich - I love you

Ich liebe dich, auch - I love you, too


End file.
